Let It Go (19 page)

“And what is it?” He waits for her to clue him in.

“Well,” she huffs, “it’s casual. It’s sex. I just need to know that. Remind myself from time to time. So I don’t get all crazy. Like I did back there. With Candida Wooten.” She rolls her eyes, slightly embarrassed of her jealous reaction.

“What do you want it to be? You want it to be casual? What is it that you want, Savannah?” She shrugs her shoulders, having yet to define exactly what it is she truly wants. “You gotta give me something. That’s my role, as a man.” Brody pats his hand over his chest. “To lead. Whatever this is or isn’t, you tell me and I’ll make sure we stay the course.”

She takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “I just feel like I need to keep a good perspective on it, you know. I mean, I just recently finalized my divorce. I’m over that. Over him. I took care of that baggage while we were separated. That’s not the problem. This…you…me. I don’t want to jump in, only to end up right back where I was.”

Brody smiles, understanding. “We all have scars, Savannah. Wounds. They take time to close. To heal. But in the meantime, you’d be better off to stop second-guessing yourself. Beating yourself up over past mistakes. Trust me.” He kisses her hand to his lips. “That’s something I know a little bit about,” his voice reflective of all the time he wasted punishing himself over a failed marriage.

“Maybe I should practice what I preach.” Savannah deliberates on her snarky advice to Jack earlier that evening,
Life is for the bold. If you can’t handle it, go sit on the sidelines
. “I want to get back out there. Be able to trust myself. I really do.” Her fidgety hands loosen the tie from around the neck of Brody’s fully unbuttoned shirt. The silky, black accessory still haphazardly attached from her previous pawing.

“I know.” Brody eyes her sympathetically. “Exactly what you’re going through. Wondering when and if you’ll ever be able to trust your decisions in the relationship department. You
screwed it up
with Jack. How do you know if this,” he touches his hand to her heart then to his, “is real?”

“Exactly!” She furrows her brow. “Things started out great with him, too. I mean, I feel like maybe I should play the field. I’ve never done that. Dated around. Maybe I’m one of those serial monogamists. I’ve had three sexual partners in my life. Well, before you.” She ducks her head with the admission, her overactive mind rambling. “And that was it. Once I was attracted to them, I jumped right in, for the long haul. Maybe I’m just naive. To think that’s the way it works. My zero for three record isn’t too promising.”

“People do change, evolve. I guess some do that together, while others go their own way,” Brody acknowledges.

“It’s so easy to do that nowadays. There are so many options, you know. I remember my mama talking about her generation. Women…mostly wanted to be married and have children. Now…we have careers and aspirations. Choices. Sometimes it’s hard to sort out what’s most important on that priority list.” She pauses momentarily, contemplating her catalog of preferences. “Seems as though ambition always trumps relationships with me.”

“Ambition is nothing to be ashamed of, Savannah. It’s sexy.” Brody strokes his hands through her untamed locks. “But it is important to talk about these things. In the getting-to-know-each-other phase.” He grins. “I think that’s where we differ. Men and women. Women usually go with what they feel…their intuition. Men, we go with logic. Most of us, anyway, think it through.”

She looks at him disbelieving, responding in an overly exaggerated, youthful female voice, “Well, I am just a little ol’ girl. With a little ol’ brain. Logic escapes me.” She rolls her eyes, pushing off of him, attempting to free herself of his primitive lap.

Brody chuckles, holding her fast to his thighs. “Now, hear me out. How long did you notice me at the gym? During your regular workouts.”

She shrugs. “Maybe a year or so. After I was separated. Who wouldn’t notice you?”

“And I noticed you for the same amount of time. But I didn’t just go off of that initial impression and desire,” he explains. “I watched you purposely. Took note of your habits, how you carried yourself, how you interacted with those around you.”

“You
observed
me,” she huffs, sarcastically noting his logic.

“You bet your ass I did,” he answers without hesitation. “And a fine ass it is.” His charming, flirty smile surfaces as his hands massage the prized treasure. “Really, you can learn a lot about a person just by watching them.”

“And what did you learn?” Savannah tests.

“You’re ambitious, committed, kind. And you’d be a great mama,” he replies, one right after the other, already having checked those attributes off his ever-mindful ‘must-haves’ checklist.

“You got all of that from
observing
me at the gym?” She releases a suspect laugh.

“Yep.” He continues gently kneading her muscles, his hands trailing from her dress-covered bottom to her bare thighs, further divulging, “The intensity of your workout told me you’re driven. You mean business. And the exercises you did. It wasn’t some willy-nilly afterthought. They were planned, purposeful and effectively carried out. All the time, every time. Four days a week. That’s willpower. Dedication. Means you can be counted on when the chips are down,” he says proudly. The breakdown and noble explanation of her seemingly routine actions causes her a short-lived deep satisfaction.

Quickly resorting to self-doubt, she shatters his buildup. “I bet Jack would have a different opinion on my being accountable.”

“You can’t define yourself by one experience. If you have a mate who’s resistant to change, resistant to working with you to improve the union, then what other choice do you have? Who was it?” Brody’s thick, dark lashes meet together in thought. “That said insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result.”

“Einstein,” Savannah helps him out.

Brody shakes her triumphantly. “Just a little ol’ girl with a smart little ol’ brain,” he kids, playing on her sarcastic testimony. Savannah laughs, the action causing her head to tip back, exposing her inviting neck. Brody meets it with his mouth, continuing in his rich deep tone. “Separates the men from the boys. Knowing when you have something worth compromising for.”

“What’s all of this
man
talk?” Savannah’s voice matching his in its come-hither delivery, she returns his affection, her lips now playing softly upon his neck. “Are you some sort of closet caveman?” Her lips reverberate off his ample Adam’s apple distending from his hulky neck as he chuckles provocatively with her inquiry.

“Closet caveman, no. Open and up for the challenge of my position, yes.” His hands roam her bare shoulders and down over her back, satisfied at the raised bumps on her skin from his stimulating touch.

“Just what is your
position
, gym boy?” Savannah’s hands, too, play over the skin of his defined abdomen, causing it to rise accompanied by a shiver.

“No woman wants a man she can walk all over. No more than she wants one who will walk all over her. It’s my position to stay true to myself while becoming the man she needs.”

Savannah giggles condescendingly, her body language anything but, remaining approachable, avidly playing along with his affectionate ebb and flow. “Where do you come up with this stuff? Is there a class or something? You men take that prepares you to tell women exactly what they want to hear?”

“I believe they call it the school of hard knocks. Live and learn. All you have to do to pass is pay attention and be perceptive.” Brody sinks his teeth and mouth into the right side of her neck. The action causes her to gasp, followed by a satisfied moan as she relaxes into it. “See,” he whispers, his perception proven. “Found that sweet spot the first night we spent together. Given a little more time, I’m sure I’ll find others.” He grins seductively.

Savannah laps the moisture from her bottom lip with her tongue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for the philosophical type,” she admits, somewhere between a groan and a whisper.

“Let me guess. You had me typecast in your mind before you even knew me.” His hands nestle about her waist. The size and girth of the appendages large enough to nearly touch as he strokes them firmly about her lower back.

“Maybe.” Savannah refuses to fully acknowledge the fact.

“And that’s where that difference comes in.” He smiles at her knowingly. “Women and men. I bet you had me all squared away in your mind. Who I was. Or at least who you wanted me to be, intuitively. Huh?”

She moans at his indulging hands against her lower back, convinced she’d agree to most anything in this moment. “Maybe. And you didn’t?”

“No,” he answers very matter-of-factly. “Men don’t do that. Unless we’re fantasizing purposely. We take most everything at face value.”

“Logic,” she whispers.

Brody releases another deeply laced chuckle. “You disappointed? With the real me?”

“Thought I would be,” she says, reflecting on her initial disdain when he introduced himself at the gym, sure to find him contrasting to the image she had built in her mind. “I’d have to say I’m quite pleasantly surprised.”

“I’m not,” he growls, his hands on her body transitioning from playful and petting to explicit and carnal.

“Back to my working out with
intensity, dedication
and
purpose
,” she brusquely mimics the depth of his vocal tone with each adjective, still finding it hard to believe he got all of that from her gym activity.

“Another thing I noticed about you, in the gym,” he begins, unwilling to be mocked. “You didn’t stand around chatting it up with folks. You’re productive. But if someone approached you, you acknowledged them, talked to them. You’re kind. All of those little nuances speak highly of your character, your standards, your heart, Savannah.” He whispers her name, his hand coming to rest on the left side of her chest, over the life-sustaining organ. Palpating its electrifying rhythm, his heart skips a beat, falling in line with the pace of hers. “That’s how I know you’re going to be a great mama. If you put that much try, heart, into your children, they’re going to have it pretty damn good.”

Children, formerly the furthest thing from her mind. Now, the thought of his children, alarming yet completely captivating, Savannah forces an aloof chuckle. “Shouldn’t we at least
try
a few more times before naming them?” her whimsical question completely diversionary.

Never one to back down from
try
ing, Brody swiftly accommodates, pulling her up and over his lap, swinging his suit jacket around her shoulders to camouflage any bare skin from the windshield in the dark, secluded alleyway. The windows of his cab having grown foggy from their prolonged make-out/talk session provide the perfect hideaway. Releasing
Thor
from his suit pants, he groans at the contact of her warm, wet center.

“We can go back to my place,” Brody offers through kisses, concerned with her comfort.

“It’s not going to take me very long,” Savannah pants, slightly titillated about fornicating in a compromising location, something she has never indulged in or considered before. An iota of wonder flashes through her mind as to why she is propelled to do so with Brody. Securing their union, she lets her ripeness speak for itself.

“Ahh,” Brody groans with the feel of her, eagerly swallowing him up. He liberates her supple bounty from the constricting little black dress, pulling the strapless top down to her waist. As he pays opulent attention to her rousing buds, Savannah winds her fingers in his hair establishing their pleasurable cadence. Each time, growing more familiar with one another’s body, they take heed of innate turn-ons, dedicated to agonizing provocation followed by sweet release.

“Brody,” his name escapes her lips in something of a mesmerizing chant. Their positioning offering up the deepest penetration, surely to transport her from reality to utopia. His scent, his touch, his previous thoughtful conversation and declaration of ‘man’ piques her most internal womanly hunger.

“I gotcha, Sweet Savannah,” Brody growls, calling her back to him from the carnal brink. His hands, firmly entangled in the sides of her hair, he holds her mouth over his, filling his lungs with her candied breath. “Tell me you want me.”

Steadfast in her ambrosial rhythm, Savannah giggles angelically. “Is that even questionable?” she asks, figuring her actions have certainly clarified the matter. Her lips seeking his, he does not deliver.

His steel blues alluring, needy and intently focused on her dark greens, he holds her mouth from his. “I need to hear you say it,” his tone a pleading demand.

Savannah smiles innocently. “All the time. Every time. I…want…you, Brody McAlister.”

He reciprocates her delight, his pearly whites beaming from his full lips, rewarding her declaration with a most merciful caress to her mouth. The light playful gesture gaining in depth and urgency, the consuming rhythm matching her fervid stroke below.

Supporting her back with his arms, Brody repositions their bodies. Laying her flat against the console between the front seats, he situates his weight to rest on his knees pressed into the floorboard. His urge to dominate and deliver her to arduous climax, he now controls their pace, having maintained their fusion.

A high-pitched moan escapes her parted lips as he skillfully delivers himself to her.
Thor’s
anatomy perfectly curved and anointing her yummy-spot with each slow, steady rub.

Brody lifts his torso from her, leaning back to enjoy the view. Her arched back accentuating the wealthy fill of her breasts as they bounce gingerly with each creamy glide. His large rugged hand in complete contrast against her soft lustrous skin, incites a thrilling path from her neck down over her flat abdomen, settling just above their juncture.

“Brody,” she gasps at the rousing circle he makes with the pad of his thumb.

He groans, his scandalous eyes unable to pull themselves away from their promiscuous unification. “
Let it go
, Sweet Savannah,” he coaches, his artfully deep-rooted voice begging of her surrender. “Give in to it, baby.”